The plane slashed through the snowy clouds that slowly sailed across the endless blue sky. The aircraft radiated feelings of sorrow and anger as it glided in the air swiftly. At the center of the mourning was a boy with dark storm clouds circulating his backward cap.
The boy was tall and slim, but his most astounding character was that he was an Asian. However, he happened to not be your stereotypical Asian. In fact, if his appearance was different, you could even call him white. He wasn’t brilliant and he didn’t use big words and he even played tennis, white man’s sport. He despised his cultural background and would have thrown it away if he had the chance. How might I know this kid so well? Well, that poor child being sent off to Korea happened to be me.
Nothing ever seemed to go right, at least for my pitiful life. My parents, who were probably the most Asian of Asians, with accent and all, decided it was time for me to fully understand my culture. Sending me to Korea was their plan A and plan B. I, of course, did not get to influence my opinion whatsoever and was treated like a puppy that was excited to follow what it was ordered to do.
I didn’t meet their expectations.
I barked and snarled at the enraging idea. My parents were not amused. My mom exploded into one of her long sermons about how they were spending thousands of dollars for my own benefit and how I should be grateful to them. The words continued to be spit upon my smothered face for hours and I soon gave in to shut her up. So the conversation ended with my mom being the victor for the millionth time and me stomping away to my friend’s house. Days passed, and the topic was never mentioned. A spark of hope lighted into an engulfing flame that ran through my whole body. Maybe they changed their minds. Maybe they forgot. Maybe I convinced them that I wasn’t going. Scenarios continued to pop into my head and I jumped with joy, happy in my fairytale. However, my candle of hope was extinguished quite rapidly by the very life of my parents.
This is really good. I like your use of adjectives and the way you describe things. It's good in a dark way. I don't know if you want the story to be shaded, and dark, but so far it seems like it. It's not a bad thing though.
I'm looking forward to reading the rest of your story. It's looking good so far. Keep it up.
Oh yeah and we need to somehow communicate over skype or aim. Whatever you have. That would be good.
The plane slashed through the snowy clouds that slowly sailed across the endless blue sky. The aircraft radiated feelings of sorrow and anger as it glided in the air swiftly. At the center of the mourning was a boy with dark storm clouds circulating his backward cap.
The boy was tall and slim, but his most astounding character was that he was an Asian. However, he happened to not be your stereotypical Asian. In fact, if his appearance was different, you could even call him white. He wasn’t brilliant and he didn’t use big words and he even played tennis, white man’s sport. He despised his cultural background and would have thrown it away if he had the chance. How might I know this kid so well? Well, that poor child being sent off to Korea happened to be me.
Nothing ever seemed to go right, at least for my pitiful life. My parents, who were probably the most Asian of Asians, with accent and all, decided it was time for me to fully understand my culture. Sending me to Korea was their plan A and plan B. I, of course, did not get to influence my opinion whatsoever and was treated like a puppy that was excited to follow what it was ordered to do.
I didn’t meet their expectations.
I barked and snarled at the enraging idea. My parents were not amused. My mom exploded into one of her long sermons about how they were spending thousands of dollars for my own benefit and how I should be grateful to them. The words continued to be spit upon my smothered face for hours and I soon gave in to shut her up. So the conversation ended with my mom being the victor for the millionth time and me stomping away to my friend’s house. Days passed, and the topic was never mentioned. A spark of hope lighted into an engulfing flame that ran through my whole body. Maybe they changed their minds. Maybe they forgot. Maybe I convinced them that I wasn’t going. Scenarios continued to pop into my head and I jumped with joy, happy in my fairytale. However, my candle of hope was extinguished quite rapidly by the very life of my parents.
This is really good. I like your use of adjectives and the way you describe things. It's good in a dark way. I don't know if you want the story to be shaded, and dark, but so far it seems like it. It's not a bad thing though.
I'm looking forward to reading the rest of your story. It's looking good so far. Keep it up.
Oh yeah and we need to somehow communicate over skype or aim. Whatever you have. That would be good.